He was never the romantic type, always cold even unintentionally, but you loved him anyway. Dexter was a platonic soul, he was not interested in sex. You never thought he would come to you with trembling, bloody knuckles, looking for comfort..

You lie in bed and look confused at Dex who is holding his wrist with blood dripping from his knuckles.. who would have thought that a blood analyst, a genius of forensic medicine would be so distraught after smashing his knuckles

"come here.." you whisper calmly offering him comfort and without further request he quickly nestles into your hips.. his breath is shaky but you can see that he calms down a bit as soon as he feels your hand in his hair..